A Much Younger Man - Z.A. Maxfield Page 0,76
only in his twenties.”
“Is that so?”
Beck winked. “Just sayin’. Dmytro’s pretty badass.”
“I hope I get to meet them all sometime. They sound like an awesome family.”
“They’re pretty sweet.” Beck turned away. “Guess some people think it’s okay to live in the present instead of always thinking about what might go wrong.”
Ouch. “Guess so.”
“Look, it’s not my business anymore, but—”
“Beck.”
“No, hear me out.” He leaned forward, eyes like lasers, straight to my soul. “You think I’m just some dumb kid who got caught up in a couple bad choices. You think that’s why I was living rough, why I latched onto Tug, why I came on to you.”
“Beck, you don’t know what I think.”
“No, I know you believe I’m naïve because I’m young. You’ve said that. But I’ve been through things you have no way to understand, and what I know is there are only three truly certain things. We’re born. We live. And we die.”
“I know you’ve had it hard—”
“No, listen. Everything is secondary to those three basic realities. We have no control over being born. Death is a matter of biology or bad luck. My biodad died in a welding accident. My younger brother died of leukemia. I’ve seen the beginning and the end, and all I want to do now is live. We’re born. We live. We die. And we only really have control over one of those things.”
I stroked the dog’s soft white fur. “What do you want from me?”
“I want you to choose how you want to live. Don’t borrow trouble from your future, and don’t make decisions based on your past. I choose how I live now. I choose to love you because you’re a good man, and you make me happy.”
“Oh, God, Beck.” I let the dog down and staggered to my feet. “I don’t know what to say to that. What you’re saying…it’s such an oversimplification.”
“Is it?” His blue gemstone eyes hardened.
“It feels like it. It feels like you can’t always choose how to live. There are priorities, for one thing. I may want to choose something or someone, but my work takes up so much of my life everything and everyone else suffers from neglect. It wouldn’t be fair to—”
“Please think about it, Doc. Think about it before it’s too late to find a way to wedge in something besides saving all the animals. Maybe people need you too.”
“I will always be here for you if you need me.” I let my fingers trail down his arm. “Hope you enjoy your stay up at Ajax’s place.”
“I start there on Sunday morning.”
“Good.” I couldn’t think of anything else to say. “Well…”
He sighed unhappily. “Bye, Lindy. Have a good weekend.”
“You too.”
I drove to the resort numb with grief. If only I believed my destiny was mine to control, it would be a lot easier to swallow. It wasn’t that I didn’t have choices. I had choices. But honestly, when I compared how effective I was at work with how good a boyfriend I’d been the few times I’d tried it, there was no question where my priorities should lie. I had an actual calling. It seemed wrong to let a man get in the way of that.
Of course, my brain told me Beck wouldn’t begrudge me my work. My heart told me my love for him provided me with strength and healing. I could see our relationship enhancing my life in a thousand ways, not least of which was to bring us both joy.
But…I still worried it might be a big mistake. I might simply be another deluded old fool dazzled by a pretty young thing.
Who should I believe?
Dad met me in the resort lobby with a hug. “Your mom got a little more sun than she expected in the pool this afternoon, so she’s taking a nap. We’re on our own until dinner.”
“Okay.”
“I’d like to get a drink at the bar and then maybe take a walk if that’s okay with you?”
“Sounds great.” I followed him to an elegant mahogany bar with brass fittings, marble tables, and cane back chairs. Around the perimeter, groups of leather wingbacks made the place look like a gentleman’s club. “How was your golf game?”
“Wonderful. I don’t know if I mentioned, but some old friends drove up from San Luis Obispo, and we got a chance to catch up.”
“That’s cool.”
The bartender came over. “What can I get you?”
I started to speak, but Dad held his hand up. “Your whisky is Laphroiag, right?”
“If you’re paying.” I nodded.
“Two,” Dad told